


Playin' Dirty

by overcastskeleton



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic!Steve, F/M, Fluff, Tickling, it's all very cute, there's a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton
Summary: Just some post-mission fluff
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/You
Kudos: 44





	Playin' Dirty

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little drabble I wrote for my tumblr. Enjoy.

It had been a long day; the final day of what had been an exhausting week-long mission. Recon was never fun, but when it was rushed and founded on questionable intel, it became a nightmare. And this nightmare had left your body weary, battered, and very much in need of your boyfriend’s soft touch. 

You dipped as soon as the debriefing meeting wrapped, grabbing your overnight bag and throwing it into the back of the SHIELD-issued car. The engine purred quietly as you moved it deftly through mid-afternoon traffic, making it back to your brownstone in record time.

The little house was quiet, still. The only sound was the hum of the TV playing low in the living room and Steve’s snores. He was on the couch, limbs sprawled out awkwardly, and jaw slack as he dreamed. Lying loyally on the floor in front of him was Hercules, the puppy you and Steve had adopted last year. He perked up when he saw you round the corner and bounded over to you, tail wagging excitedly. 

“Hey, Herc.” You knelt down slowly and ran your fingers through his golden fur. He licked your hands and face, tail all the while thumping against the wooden floor. “Shh, Herc, don’t wanna wake up, daddy.” You glanced over to find Steve still asleep and snoring loudly. 

_ Good, he needed the rest more than he thought _ . 

Steve hadn’t been happy when he learned he was being left behind, he raised hell actually. He had a hunch,  _ his words not yours _ , that Fury was sidelining him on purpose, and he was right. 

“The war’s over.” Fury had said when you brought it up to him after a debrief meeting a couple weeks back. “Time to let the soldier rest... _ Oh _ and tell Rogers that if he still tries to show up here, I will have Wilson and Barnes personally escort his ass back home.” 

And though you agreed, Steve did not share your sentiment. He’d sulked around your little brownstone for the better part of the week, complaining about how boring it was to be on leave with nothing to do, while you still got to go into the office everyday. But at the end of the day Steve knew there was nothing else to do but suck it up and make the most of the involuntary vacation. Not when Fury had released an APB on him to every SHIELD agent with strict instructions to raise the alarm if they saw him within fifteen feet of headquarters.

“C’mon.” You stood, wincing as your knees popped and something akin to fire shot up your bruised thighs. “Fuck.” 

His nails clicked along the tile as he followed you into the kitchen. You grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a towel and held it to your side as you filled a glass with water. It tasted heavenly, cool and crisp on your parched tongue, and you gulped it down quickly, unaware that you were so thirsty. 

Hercules watched your movements with wide brown eyes, happy that you were home, and unwilling to let you out of his sight again. 

“Did you miss me, Herc?” You asked, grabbing one of the bone-shaped treats from the jar on the counter. 

He sat back on his haunches and let out an excited whine. Something that either meant  _ Yes, I missed you, human _ , or, more likely,  _ I want the treat in your hand _ . 

You fed him the treat and patted his head. “I missed you too, buddy.” 

Hercules nudged his snout into your hand in thanks, and trotted over to his favorite spot under the table to eat it. 

You made your way into the living room, and turned the television off, before taking in the sight of Steve. And what a sight it was. His long frame draped over the couch, illuminated by the diagonal sunrays coming in through the window. Looking very fuckable in a simple white tee and grey sweats with three-day stubble covering his chin, and a few strands of his golden hair falling over his forehead. 

“Steve, baby.” You whispered, as you squeezed yourself onto the only small space left on the couch. “ _ Stevie _ .” More insistently, when he didn’t stir.

Still nothing. 

“Steven.” You dropped a kiss to his forehead. “Grant.” Another on his nose. “Rogers. Wake. Up.” You whispered against his lips. 

They responded back to your kiss, lips soft and familiar as they molded against yours. You pecked his lips again, and pulled away with a grin. 

Steve groaned, eyes fluttering open slightly. “This a dream?” He asked, blinking slowly. 

“You have these kinds of dreams often, Rogers?” You cocked your head to the side. 

He yawned, and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Only about you.” He said, with a small smirk. 

And God, you didn’t know if it was what he said or how he said it, voice rough and heavy with the last traces of sleep, but you felt a hot spike of desire work it’s way through your body. You cleared your throat, and shifted subtly to hide the shudder, but his smirk grew nonetheless. 

“They better only be about me.” You ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. 

“C’mere.” He moved onto his side, leaving a considerable chunk of the sofa open to you. “Missed you. So did Herc.” He nodded to the dog bed across the room where the pup in question was lying. 

“Trust me, I know.” You mumbled as you lied down next to him. Your body protested as you wiggled until you were somewhat comfortable. “He gave me lots of welcome home kisses.” 

Steve held you closer to him, and kissed your forehead softly, as his fingers deftly began their scan for injuries. Your fingers curled into his shirt, and your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed in the clean scent of him. You pressed your face into his chest, letting the warmth of him lull you into a stupor. 

Steve’s fingers paused, rubbing over the plastic of the ice pack. “What happened?” 

“Just a bruise,” you answer dazed by his proximity after being a week apart. “You should see the other guy.” 

Steve dropped his head and kissed your shoulder. “How was the mission?” 

“A disaster,” you answered, relaxing into his touch. “Intel was bogus, so we had to start from scratch. What should have taken three days, max, took a week.”

He hummed, lips trailing up your neck. “Who was on point?” 

“Reed was. Why?” You tilted your head back to give him more access. 

“Get anything useful?” He brushed his lips against your pulse.

“Yeah. We got something about an incel group in--  _ Wait a minute _ . Are you trying to squeeze a debrief out of me?” 

Steve’s lips paused against your jaw, his plot obviously foiled.

“I cannot believe you.” You pulled away from him, almost falling over the edge of the couch in the process. 

He grabbed your hips, and shifted so he was hovering over you. “I’m just being a supportive boyfriend.” His tone was innocent, but his green eyes were sheepish. 

“You’re interrogating me. Lowering my guard with your little kisses and rough voice. The nerve of you.” 

“ _ Baby _ .” Steve drew his lips into a pout. “Please. I’m goin’ crazy locked in this house.” 

You shook your head. “You know I can’t tell you, it’s classified. Fury would have my head.” 

“No he wouldn’t, you’re obviously his best agent.” 

Wow, he was really laying it on thick. 

You leveled him with a glare. “Flattery’s not gonna work, baby.” 

“Well what will work?” He whispered, dipping his head down to kiss you again. 

“Nothing.” You grabbed his chin. “I didn’t crack under enhanced interrogation, I’m not gonna crack from a few kisses.” 

The corner of his lips quirked up. “ _ Nothing _ ?” His hand inched towards your stomach. 

“Steve.” You warned, trying to wiggle away. “Steve,  _ don’t _ . I swear to God.” 

His fingers curled over your stomach, and an involuntary laugh bubbled up from your throat. “You gonna tell me?” 

You tried to push him away, but his strong arms kept you caged in place as he kept up the barrage of tickles. You squirmed under him, peals of laughter filling the room. “ _ Stop _ .” You squealed. 

“Not until you tell me about the mission.” Steve poked your stomach, pulling breathless giggles from your lips. 

“N-no!” You gasped. “Wait, Steve, stop.” Your tone had shifted, a pained hitch had replaced the playful laughs. 

He stopped immediately, concern written over every one of his features. “Are you okay?” His eyes drifted down to your injured side, the ice pack had fallen onto the floor in the struggle. “Did I hurt you?”

Steve’s worried expression turned confused when you began giggling. 

“Nope.” You bit your bottom lip and raised your eyebrows. “Gotcha.” 

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Wh-- I-- I thought.” He sputtered with a very betrayed look on his face. “You--” 

“You’re not the only one who can play dirty, Captain.” You pecked his lips and slid from under him, leaving him on the couch dumbfounded. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> Check out my tumblr: @generaldamneron


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